PS I Love You
by MiraiBaby
Summary: Jazz is afraid of admitting his love to Prowl, but once Jazz gets kidnapped, will the Porsche ever get a chance to confess his feelings? What will Prowl do to get back the one he loves? Rape, Abusive Language and Harsh Drama. Slash//ProwlxJazz
1. Preface

Words mean nothing  
Unless they're the truth,  
Why everything I say  
Must be tabooed.

I have shunned away your company,  
I have torn away your trust.  
Must I feel the consequences  
Now that everything is bust?

P.S. I love you,  
Words I'd never hear you say,  
Words I was stunned to hear,  
Words that won't go away.

We've been friends forever,  
Comrades 'til the end.  
But in this war,  
A love is born,  
These mixed feelings that I send.

The pain this war has given you,  
Is the pain I have received.  
But now I see the truth in words,  
Now I see the deed.

P.S. I love you,  
Words I understand.  
Now that I can hold you,  
As we stand here hand-in-hand.


	2. Late Night

Minor Slash warning, Shounen-ai content.

* * *

The wind so cold, the night so young. The ark was quiet, for once, or at least as quiet as a base can be with giant robots inhabiting the vicinity. An over-stressed cop, second-in-command, sat near a console, Teletraan's security screens blazing in the darkened room. Prowl had inadvertently turned off his optics, his circuits throbbing and threatening to go on the fritz again. He needed to recharge; he could feel the strain on his receptors that staying awake for two nights in a row had done. He had a cup of Energon next to him, and sure, that would give him a boost, but he knew that nothing could beat a solid recharge.  
His optics came back online as he heard a soft rapping on the doors. Looking up at the monitors in front of him, he saw, to his great dislike, that the red troublemaker Sideswipe stood there, waiting to be admitted into the room beyond.  
"Do you _have_ to come to me for _everything_ that goes wrong?!" Prowl said to the doors, then grimaced as his own voice. The bot's voice even sounded strained. He growled when the silence that followed didn't give the Lamborghini the hint to go away. "What do you want?" he asked the doors in a softer tone.  
The young bot entered the security room, a slightly abashed look across his normally happy face. "Sorry, Prowl, but with Optimus Prime gone for the night --" he cut off as Prowl gave off an exasperated groan.  
"It's like _babysitting_ you!!" Sideswipe jumped, backing up slightly in a frightened manner. Prowl couldn't take this any longer. _Why_ was the crew so in need of someone to tattle to every ten minutes?! "I can't do this anymore, get the slag out of here!!" Sideswipe left without question, zipping around the corner and out of sight down the hall with Prowl's voice echoing after him like a ghost.  
The second-in-command collapsed on his previously-vacated chair, exuding a deep moan as he sank, wishing that for just a few hours the world would cease to spin so that he could get some deeply-needed recharge time. Burying his face in his hands, he turned his attention back to Teletraan's blinking screens. All seemed to be in order, everyone was in their place, and the younger bots seemed to be bothering Ratchet again. He chuckled slightly as he watched the old medic chase Sunstreaker and Tracks from the-  
Tracks…? He watched the Firebird curiously. 'That's odd…' he thought, never recalling the city-slicker in any of Sunstreaker's antics before, but before he could ponder the aspect much further, the wonderful silence that Prowl was just beginning to enjoy was, once again, broken by a soft knocking upon the doors.  
_"WHAT?!"_ he hissed at the doors, but immediately wished he hadn't as the doors opened to admit the slightly startled form of the third-in-command, Jazz.  
The Porsche stood in the doorway looking surprised and slightly hurt by Prowl's outburst. "Prowl, you okay, man?" Prowl sighed, trying as hard as he could to settle his circuits as they were set ablaze by just the sight of Jazz, a feeling of hot warmth surging through him that he prayed to Primus wasn't showing on his face.  
"Yes, yes…" Prowl responded to his younger officer. "Just… tired is all…" He watched Jazz in the doorway for a second, feeling bad that he had barked at him. Beckoning with his hand, he said "Come on, please."  
The young bot entered the room, sitting in the only other vacant chair. "Thought you might have been in here," He tried to get a look at Prowl's face, but Prowl wouldn't quite look at him optic-to-optic, afraid that his face was still flushed. "Dude, you look horrible… Why don't you go recharge?"  
Prowl sighed. "I wish I could, but… I have to stay here…"  
"No you don't," Jazz stated matter-of-factly. "Put it on auto; Teletraan will alert us the second someone steps onto the premises," He looked at his superior incredulously. "You, above all people, should know that."  
"I know, it's just…" The cop looked back at the monitors, delaying when he would have to look at the Porsche's face. "I get so edgy-" He looked down at his thigh, where Jazz's hand had suddenly appeared. A small surge of happiness went through his body as Jazz's hand lay there. He looked up at Jazz, his optics wide, and knew that he could no longer look away from the Porsche nor hide the inevitable red flush that had donned his cheeks.  
Jazz looked at Prowl with a soft, almost loving-type expression. A small smile was playing across Jazz's lips and it seemed, to Prowl's surprise, that Jazz's face was slightly red in the light from the monitors behind. "Relax, Prowl…" the young bot seemed slightly surprised to see his own hand where it was. "Come on, we both need to recharge. Tell the ark it's lights out and then hit your room." He watched his superior, refusing to break optic contact with Prowl even though it set his circuits buzzing with warm feelings as Prowl watched him back. Jazz's smile must have been fading for Prowl chuckled.  
"You know what?" Prowl said, sighing. "You're right. No, you're more than right, you are perfectly right." Setting the security system on auto-pilot, as he had done many times before, he got up, following Jazz out of the dark room.  
When they separated at Jazz's door, Prowl felt a slight bit of longing toward the Porsche. He had had a crush on the young bot for as long as he could remember, but, for once, he would give all of his logical circuitry and memories for just the right amount of courage to tell Jazz how he felt. He was certain that his feelings were true, but was afraid of telling him for fear of tearing up their friendship.  
He looked up and, with a start, found himself outside his own room. His feet had automatically taken him there while his mind had wandered where it pleased. 'Well, one thing I know for sure,' he though moodily as he opened the door. 'There's no way in hell I'm telling Jazz.' Walking into the room he stopped and cocked his head at the wall opposite him where something was written in Energon. The words gave off a very faint glow, barely visible now as its effects were beginning to fade.  
He gave a start as he read the words, his optics narrowed to re-read what he could have sworn he didn't. His circuits were sent another warming trend as he re-read the words, just to make sure. He pondered and thought, racking his poor, overworked mind to try and dislodge anything that would lead him to the bot with the slanted writing, but nothing came. Deciding to think about it tomorrow, he shut his optics down, settling in for a long recharge session, but even as he slept the words ran through his subconscious along with one tiny blip of a thought that Prowl knew would never come true.

__

"P.S. I love you."


	3. Something Childish

Minor Slash warning, Shounen-ai content.

Morning came earlier than Prowl wanted it to, but he knew he couldn't stay in Recharge forever. His circuitry slowly coming back online, it alighted his other senses as it went, bringing up his optics first. Needless to say, he got a nice recharge, but something kept disturbing his subconscious as he slept. Those words kept going through his head, spreading warmth every time he thought about them…  
Looking behind him he saw the wall and nothing more; the Energon having worn off hours ago, and with it, the slanted writing had vanished. Sighing, he wished he knew who had written it. For all he knew it wasn't who he thought. For all he knew it could have been the younger bots playing tricks on him. For all he knew… for all he knew…  
Getting a sudden idea, he left his room, heading across the hall to reach the ark's medbay. 'Ratchet would know…' he thought with a slight surge of happiness. 'He gets to see everyone's handwriting, so if anyone knows, he would.' His spirits lifting, he hoped that the medic could tell him, or at least point him in the direction, of the bot with the slanted writing.  
Arriving at the medbay, he discovered the doors to be locked and their windows drawn, which usually meant that the medic was either busy, or had stepped out. He looked at the doors disappointedly, as if it was their fault that he wasn't getting his answers, but, as he could do nothing, he just left, walking slowly down the corridor.  
"Prowl!" He jumped as the call ripped through the silence of the early morning and whirled around to face the caller, though he already knew who the voice belonged to.  
Jazz stood there watching his higher officer curiously, a slightly surprised look across his optics as he watched; apparently Prowl was flushing again. Prowl's spark was pulsing in his chest, more from fright than anything, but his circuits were now alighted with warmth as he lay optics on the Porsche.  
"Jazz!" he sighed. "Hive me a jump-start, why don't you…" he smiled at Jazz and his face felt warm when the younger smiled back.  
"Sorry, bud." Jazz giggled and bit his lip, making that seriously adorable baby-face that Prowl loved but hated so much. "What's up?" Jazz asked; apparently Prowl's face was redder than he thought it was.  
"N-nothing, Jazz," he laughed, trying to cover up the red that had adorned his cheeks. "Just… embarrassed from jumping like that." Why, oh, why did Jazz have to keep making that pouty face?! The Porsche smiled, which made it all-the-more harder for Prowl to settle his circuits.  
Jazz shifted on his feet and looked at the ground for a second. "Well… I was hoping to talk to you about something before the others woke." He glanced up at Prowl as if to see how he'll react to his request.  
Wondering why, the cop cocked his head. "About…?" he asked quietly.  
"Well, something that's… kind of hard to say…" The younger stared at his feet, apparently embarrassed by what was on his mind. Prowl's mind was buzzing; talk to Jazz? Alone? This might be his big chance to tell they young mech how he felt! Suddenly a lot happier about his situation, he smiled at Jazz and led him to his office, Jazz seeming happy that Prowl would listen.  
Shutting the doors to his office after Jazz came in, he turned, beckoning the bot to sit in a seat as he, himself, sat behind his desk. Jazz obediently sat quietly and watched Prowl.  
"So, what's on your mind?" Prowl asked, placing his fingers together and looking over the apex of them to the young bot before him.  
Jazz looked slightly uneasy; he seemed to be squirming a little under Prowl's gaze. "Well… I'm in a predicament," He looked at his knees as he spoke in a mumble. Prowl's audio receptors had to really strain to hear him. "See… there's a bot I know who… who has… feelings… for another bot." Prowl's optics widened slightly as he listened, wondering if this had anything to do with the writing he had discovered recently. "And I'm stuck in the middle," Jazz went on, speaking to his knees. "I like her too, but I don't know if she likes me. What do I do?"  
Prowl's spark sank and he was filled with dread. She… a female… Prowl tried not to let his disappointment show on his features as he tripled. "If she likes you then she should have no problem talking to you about it. You should just ask her, or tell her how you feel."  
Jazz's head snapped up, a slightly strained expression there. "But-- but what if she rejects me? What if she doesn't think it's right?!" His voice kept getting louder as he spoke. "What if she doesn't want to be my friend any more-?!"  
Prowl was surprised by this sudden outburst of energy and childish behavior from the young Porsche. He thought for a second and remembered something, that had it not been for this war, Jazz would have been a very young and naïve bot now. He thought about his answer carefully before giving it. "Well, if she doesn't want to be your friend any longer then… well, you must have not been suitable as a friend in the first place." Prowl watched Jazz for a while, the young bot seeming to accept what Prowl was telling him. Jazz relaxed and nodded, smiling ever-so-slightly.  
"I'm sorry for bothering you with something so childish," Jazz looked at Prowl with a mixture of respect and love. "I just don't know what to say to him."  
"'Him'? Prowl repeated, watching Jazz curiously as a tiny blip of hope sparked inside him.  
Jazz's face flushed red at his mistake. "My friend, the other bot who likes the girl I like." He looked uneasy again and stared, once again, at his knees, refusing to look at his superior, even after he was asked to raise his head.  
Feeling that this conversation just got severely awkward, Prowl elected to end it. "Well… I've got to get to work, Jazz," he said, beginning to pull out data pads that he had to go over and setting them on his desk. Jazz nodded, but didn't look at Prowl. Getting up Jazz let himself out with not so much as a farewell of any kind. The cop didn't really like the fact that his best friend didn't give him a good-bye at all, but shrugged it off; he can't make someone do something. Sighing, he looked down at the pads again, staring at the one on top.  
A brown note was stuck to the top pad. Picking it up, he read the note in the same slanted writing that he saw on his wall last night. His body was flooded with happiness and wonder as he read the same four words as before. He gazed at the paper, a smile swiftly replacing the frown on his face and elation replacing misery. He set the piece of paper aside and began to work, but found that his optics and mind kept wandering away.


	4. Slanted Writing

He wandered the halls, contemplating what was said to him, not sure what he would do as he let his feet carry him where they pleased. He sighed, feeling confused and even more embarrassed than he had been before he talked to his superior. He wished slightly that he could go back and erase what he had done, for he was sure that the cop had managed to see past his words.  
Jazz's mind kept flitting to different circumstances and with every new thought it made him more and more uneasy about what he had wanted to do. Only a tiny portion of his conscious told him that Prowl would accept what he wanted to tell him, while the rest of him was filled with doubt and regret. The Porsche wanted badly to tell Prowl how he felt, but was afraid of the consequences, afraid that his feelings would tear apart their friendship.  
'That won't happen,' argued a voice in his head; did robots have consciences? 'You've been friends with him forever, why would he reject you?'  
'This is strange,' he argued back to the voice. 'Prowl's my best friend; if I tell him it could destroy what we already have. Besides, he doesn't like me that way.'  
There was silence for a moment before the voice answered. 'Only one way to find out, is there?'  
Jazz shook his head, knowing that the voice in his head was just his own doubt. "I could never tell him," he mumbled.  
"Tell who what?" a voice from behind him spoke quietly. Turning, Jazz saw that it was Tracks, the blue Firebird smug as always, a strut in his gait as he walked toward the young mech.  
"Oh, good morning to you too, Tracks," Jazz smiled lightly. "Nothing really, just something that's on my mind."  
Tracks looked at Jazz with an air of pleasant curiosity, a small smirk across his red lips. "Oh?" he asked in that same quiet voice. "Care to share?" he cocked his head as he said it, his hands placed behind his back.  
Jazz shook his head. "No, not really. It's kind of private…" he trailed off as Tracks began to walk toward him, that same smug look painting his features. Jazz looked uneasy again as he began to walk backward; something about the Firebird's nature had always made Jazz uncomfortable.  
The Porsche's back bumped into a wall, startling him and halting his backward movements. Raising a hand, Tracks placed it on the wall above Jazz's head, the Firebird's head no more than a foot away from Jazz's. "Ah, come on, you can tell me…" The Firebird exuded an air of something sly as he inched closer to Jazz, the Porsche pressed up against the wall looking slightly frightened. Jazz's optics had to work to keep Track's face in focus.  
"No, I'd rather not…" Jazz mumbled, his optics shifting around him as he tried to scoot along the wall to get away from Tracks' gaze. The Firebird had always made him weary and this sure was no exception to the matter as Tracks' optics relentlessly watched him, unmoving with that smirk upon his face.  
Tracks leaned in even closer to Jazz than he was before, the smug look getting worse as their faces were now mere inches apart. "Tell me…" he mumbled through that creepy smile of his. "What do you see in your best friend that drags you to him?" Jazz's optics widened at Tracks' sentence, and in turn the Firebird's smirk got wider. "What makes your friendship with him… tick?"  
Jazz dodged under Tracks' arm and backed up, wanting feverishly to put as much distance between him and the blue mech as possible. Tracks watched him go off, the smirk still upon his features as he turned and went in the opposite direction humming a cheerful tune.

A slight tapping motion had come to Prowl's fingers as he worked, tapping the rhythm to a song that his subconscious remembered from a time long ago. Throughout his work that day, he kept getting interrupted by other thoughts, despite his efforts to block him out. He had a data file for the ark's updated security system in front of him and he was supposed to hand it in to Optimus Prime for approval when the leader came back from his assignment that night, but the report wasn't anywhere near completion. Prowl grumbled, taking another sip from the cup next to him and grimaced slightly as the bitter Energon filled his mouth.  
His optics wandered around his desk, laying, once again, on the sheet of browned paper. Picking it up he turned it over, hoping to find a name on the back, but no such luck had availed him. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, knowing full well the amount of work he had to get through, but the more he thought about it the less he liked it.  
An idea struck his fancy and he lifted his head to look at the paper again. The notion of asking Ratchet about the slanted handwriting had presented itself again, this time, though, it was like the idea was more of a demand as Prowl was determined to find out who was leaving the nameless notes for him to find. He would find the medic and ask him straight out, not letting anything get in his way, positively determined to get his answer, be it the one he wants to hear or not.

The medical officer was in his office pouring over those insanely boring health notes that he hated so much, staring moodily at Sunstreaker's record. He hated going over this mech's record because of the amount of data he always had to go over. "I swear," the medic said to an empty office. "I will melt you down for spare parts one of these days..." putting the pad down, he entered the data in his main server as he heard a noise in the Medbay. Looking up, he saw Prowl slowly walking toward his office.  
"Morning, Ratchet," the cop said lightly as he reached the medic's office door. "Mind if I bother you for a few minutes?"  
Wondering what could be going through the mech's head when he knew that Prowl had plenty of work to do, Ratchet nodded. "Sure, Prowl." Motioning to a chair opposite his desk, the white mech smiled. "What can I help you with?" Taking the chair offered him, Prowl smiled at Ratchet, silent for a while. The medic laced his hands together and waited for his long-time friend to speak.  
"Someone has been inadvertently leaving noted for me to find," the cop began, looking slightly confused. "The handwriting was slanted and very scrunched together. I figured you get to see everyone's handwriting so I thought you might be able to help me."  
Ratchet cocked his head at this odd request, confused slightly himself. "A bot's writing style…?" he muttered slowly. "Strange request… But I don't know right off-hand…" he looked at Prowl with curious optics. "What did the note say? Anything in particular?" He watched Prowl's face flush red and noted that the cop was fidgeting slightly at the question.  
"It's… kind of private…" Prowl stated quietly. "I've come across the note twice, first on my room's wall then in a drawer of my office desk," he looked up at Ratchet. "Can't you find out for me?" His face looked desperate, and Ratchet was suddenly interested at why Prowl wanted this particular information.  
He went into a screen in his desk, quickly importing data. "Well," he said. "I don't really have any 'slanted writing' in here…" Prowl looked thoroughly disappointed at the news. Ratchet didn't want the mech to leave empty-handed, so he continued quickly. "But I do have one bot whose letters are very squeezed together." that got the cop's attention, his optics wide. Spinning the screen around on his desk to face Prowl, he let the mech examine the words on his own. He watched as the cop's face lit up, a smile spreading slowly across his lips and a tinge of red appearing on his cheeks as he read some of the words on the screen. He looked ready to speak when a furious hammering came to the Medbay doors.  
Both bots jumped in alarm as the doors flew open to admit Ironhide, a moody old gunslinger. Ratchet's medical programming was racing as he saw the heady wounds and even a missing arm as the soldier spoke out feverishly.  
"Decepticon… Seekers-!" the red bot gasped, his voice extremely strained. "Autobots captured-!" he fell over and collapsed, fainting on the hard floor with a dull _thud_.


	5. I Swear By My Spark

Minor Slash warning, Shounen-ai content.

The ark was in chaos as Prowl raced out of the Medbay, Ratchet staying behind to tend to Ironhide. Autobots were running here and there as shots were fired, echoing in the large room. A missile flew past the cop and he dove for cover back into the Medbay entrance as the explosion rocked the old volcano from top to bottom. Looking up he saw a Seeker disappear around the corner toward the entrance to the base, followed by Hound, a large piece of the Seeker's wing in his grasp.  
"Status report, soldier!" Prowl yelled at the army mech as he came out, his optics scanning for danger. He noticed that the old base was damaged, but he saw no more action nor any danger. Looking toward the base's entrance, he saw no more Decepticons in the base at all.  
"Decepticon Seekers attacked," Hound stated the obvious as he dropped the piece of Thundercracker's wing that he still held. "They took some of the others with them; one, maybe two." Hound didn't appear to be injured, but the old jeep was heaving, apparently out of breath.  
Nodding, Prowl scowled. "I want a call-off. I want to know who is missing, and I want to know it now." he looked at Hound, who looked back at him, unmoving. _"MOVE!"_ he screamed, making the soldier jump. Prowl glared at Hound's back as the jeep scuttled away.  
The second-in-command watched the other mechs assembling in the hall, noting that at least four, maybe more, were missing. He saw that most of the Autobots were in there, but to his horror, as he scanned the bots, that the third-in-command wasn't among them, but before he could keep looking for the black head of the Porsche, Hound came bustling up to the cop in a flurry.  
"Three bots are missing," Hound relayed the information quickly. "Tracks, Jazz, and Red Alert." Prowl's optics widened and his body was filled with horror; what could the Decepticons gain from taking hostages? And Jazz, Prowl's circuitry seemed to stop working as he thought of the young mech, his best friend, his one true crush… just when he found out that Jazz liked him back, now _this_ happens…?  
Prowl's horror must have shown on his face, for the jeep still stood before him looking worried. "Sir? What are your orders?"  
"Orders?" Prowl had never been in this situation before, never once had an Autobot been kidnapped by a Decepticon, never once, in all of his years of service, had he experienced this predicament. Never once, either, had his best friend been such a high priority to him.  
"Sir! Your orders!" Prowl looked down in slight surprise. Hound was still standing in front of him waiting for an answer. "We just gonna stand here while Decepti-crud make off with our teammates?!"  
Prowl shook his head, trying to rid himself of the nagging images that were currently assailing his mind. "We need to get a strike force out!" The cop had snapped back to himself, businesslike and demanding. "Contact all Autobots out on patrol and tell them to be on the lookout for any and all Decepticon activity." The ark was in a flurry of movement again as bots were gearing up to mobilize. "We need to find out exactly where they've taken our men. I'll stay here to keep an eye on everything. Form into groups and leave no place unturned!" He gazed out at the mechs assembled before him and he felt a twinge of pride at them; he had never actually appreciated just how much the team respected the one in command. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"  
The bots ran for the base's entrance, some transformed, others not. The Aerialbots were over by Teletraan's computers watching the bots leave on one of the computer's screens. They had elected to stay behind with Prowl, just in case they were needed at a moment's notice.  
Walking over to Teletraan's computers, Prowl clapped his hands together. "All right," he mumbled, staring at the screens. "Where have you taken my friends?"

An hour into the search and they still hadn't uncovered anything. Tracks had just called in recently and had gotten a giant audioful of shouting from the agitated cop about why he had not called in when prompted, and that left Prowl restless. His circuits were screaming at him to get out on the field and find the missing mechs himself, but he knew he had to stay here, just in case. The cop could feel that his circuits wanting to shut down from all the strain, but he couldn't listen to them; not this time.  
The Aerialbots seemed to have caught was Prowl had and were beginning to complain. They had just checked in with the teams recently, but none of them had turned up anything. Prowl wondered if Optimus Prime had ever felt this strained during a mission. The second-in-command was about to tell off two of the Aerialbots, who had started wrestling out of boredom, when the call came in.  
"Incoming Decepticon message, Prowl." stated Silverbolt, the leader of the Aerialbots.  
"Patch it through," Prowl tried not to put too much eagerness in his words as he looked at the screen where a dark screen had just opened up. The cop could barely make out the outline of a mech in the darkness, his red eyes shining menacingly.  
"Greetings, Autobot Prowl," The voice sounded kind of familiar, a slight bit high-pitched, but there was something new there. Prowl couldn't readily put a name to it. "I have your comrades here and if you want to see them functioning again--"  
"What the slag have you done, Starscream?!" Slingshot must have recognized the voice as the Seeker was speaking. Prowl growled at the dark silhouette of the Seeker on the screen.  
"Oh, slag, Starscream, he knows who you are!" Thundercracker was heard somewhere off-screen snickering.  
"Shh! Shut up, you fools!" Starscream hissed at the Seeker, his voice back to its normal pitch. "All fun and games, Autobot." Starscream addressed the camera again. "We'll have a little fun with them, then drop them off." More snickering was heard off-camera and Prowl suddenly felt sick. "No harm done, right?"  
"You lousy, dirty, good-for-nothing-!" Silverbolt exclaimed, but cut off in a gasp as the picture changed from the jet's silhouette to the forms of Red Alert and Jazz. The bots were tied together and appeared to have been severely beaten about the head and shoulders, the metal there was radically bent and broken. Jazz's shoulder was sparking and seemed to just hang limp at his side and Red Alert's leg was leaking Energon from the knee. Both bots seemed to be in a daze of some kind.  
"What is the meaning if this?!" Prowl exclaimed to the screen. He felt insanely sick as he looked at the beaten forms. "What will you gain by taking those men?!"  
"Nothing, really," Starscream didn't seem too interested in the conversation any longer as the screen switched back to him. "Would you care to watch, Prowl? Come and see your comrades' destruction on the outskirts of the city at sundown." the screen went black.  
Prowl stared at the screen for a moment, disgusting thoughts filling his head involving his best friend and Starscream. The Aerialbots were staring at Prowl.  
"What do we do?" asked Slingshot, his fists up, ready to fight. "Give the word and we're out of here!"  
Prowl shook his head, his hand now upon it in an attempt to steady his belaying circuitry. "Nothing. We do nothing." The Aerialbots looked stunned. "Call the others back," the cop went on quietly. "I will go and get the two back at sundown."  
"But Prowl-!" argued Air Raid; he was itching to beat up the Decepticons, but Prowl wouldn't allow it.  
Rounding on Air Raid, Prowl glowered down at him. "That's an _order_, soldier!" Air Raid nodded, slightly frightened under Prowl's evil stare. The cop turned around and stared at Teletraan's screens again, watching the place where Jazz's face was not ten seconds ago. 'I'll get you back,' Prowl thought angrily as he placed a hand on his arm, right over the spot where the Porsche's hand-written note was under his armor. 'I swear by my very spark that I will.'


	6. Pleasure Denied

"Jazz? Can you hear me?"  
The sound of a voice was faint to Jazz's audios, like the speaker was speaking through a mile-long tunnel. Jazz was weak and disoriented, not sure where he was. His body felt limp and wouldn't readily respond to him.  
His head throbbed heavily as his circuitry slowly came back online, trying to orient itself.  
"Jazz?" the voice came from a lot closer this time, actually more like right behind him. He tried to turn his head, but found only pain as he tried.  
He went back to looking forward, his optics still working on adjusting to the dim light in the room. "Red?" Jazz muttered, his audios finally recognizing the faint voice.  
"Yeah…" the young security director mumbled. Jazz noticed that Red Alert's voice sounded strained, as though he had been recently strangled, the vocal receptors broken in places. He felt like the they were tied back-to-back, Red's hands were right where his were. He felt the wires digging into his wrists and arms as well as his legs. Looking around him where he could, his optics fully adjusted to the darkness, he could only still see the silhouettes of things around him.  
"Where are we?" Jazz asked quietly.  
He felt Red Alert's shoulders move up and down. "Not sure. Everything went offline after we got attacked."  
Jazz thought for a moment, accessing his memory circuits, but the last thing he remembered was seeing the ark from the outside; everything after that was black. "Same here," the Porsche replied quietly. "I remember seeing someone, but I didn't get a good look at him."  
"Are you hurt?" Red Alert's partial medical programming must have just kicked into life.  
Jazz nodded slightly in the darkness. "Yeah, my neck and right shoulder." he grimaced as Red moved slightly causing the Porsche's shoulder to spark angrily. "What about you?"  
Red was quiet for a moment before answering. "My head, neck, and left leg. My comm has been shorted out. Can you contact Teletraan?"  
Trying, he got a surprise when something sparked behind his visor. "No; mine is gone too." He sighed; how could this happen? He had just taken a step outside when he had been ambushed.  
A light suddenly came through the darkness like a plasma blast and Jazz moaned as the light tore through his throbbing circuitry.  
"Autobots," a high-pitched voice came from the open door, forms blocking some of the light. Jazz was left in the dark with this one; he couldn't turn his head and the door was behind him.  
"He wants an audience with the black one," Starscream was right next to Jazz, nudging the Porsche's black foot with his own. The seeker moved to kneel in front of Jazz, a tight smirk across his lips. He grabbed Jazz's chin roughly, turning the Porsche's head and sending painful waves through the young mech's body that caused him to cry out pitifully.  
"One of his hydraulics is broken," Starscream was examining the Autobot's head and neck. "You fools were _supposed_ to be careful!"  
Someone shifted uneasily behind Jazz. "It's not _my_ fault he struggled." Skywarp's voice sounded edgy.  
The seeker in front of Jazz focused his optics on his captive's, forcing the young bot to look straight at him. "Pity that we can't have our way with him too…" Starscream managed to pull off a mocking pout as he spoke. "But at least he'll be good for some fun." Jazz watched with frightened optics as Starscream came forward, the seeker's lips crashing painfully into his. The Porsche's optics got wide as he Seeker's glossa tore through Jazz's tightly-pressed lips and assailed his mouth.  
Disgust and revulsion filled Jazz's every synapse as the seeker pulled back, licking his lips. Jazz reacted to Starscream's smirk by spitting on the seeker, but promptly got slapped for it, his head whipping around painfully.  
"Disrespect, Autobot." Starscream's optics were narrowed at Jazz as he muttered "You will learn…" Jazz watched Starscream through what he could of what was left of his vision. The seeker's slap has dislodged some of Jazz's optical connections and as such his vision was distorted. He cried out when his arm sparked painfully; someone had grabbed him and forced his torso forward so that another could get at the wires tying him and Red Alert together. He was freed from Red Alert, but there were still more wires dug into his arms, keeping them tied behind his back. He struggled for a moment, trying to free himself from the seekers' tight hold, but someone hit the back of his head, knocking loose more of his connections, his vision now in black-and-white, words flashing across his vision in warning.  
"Quit struggling, pest!" Thundercracker sounded none-too-happy and Jazz sure as hell didn't want to get in this seeker's bad side any more then he already was. Jazz's head throbbed profusely as he was lifted to his feet. The Porsche's vision was trying to repair itself, but it was still messed; the right side of his visor seemed to be cracked slightly.  
Jazz felt hands on his back, which shoved him forward, forcing him to walk. The only thing Jazz could do from his current position was obey the seekers' orders, and without any weapons he was positive that if he tried to fight he would lose. His only onboard weapon was in his injured arm and he could barely lift it. He obeyed the pushing hands reluctantly, leaving the room into the long hall.  
The hall was very bright to Jazz's damaged optics after the darkness of the room they had just left. He squinted at the light and wished it would go away; his poor head kept throbbing.  
"Where are you taking me?" Jazz was surprised to detect fear in his voice. The seekers must have noticed it too because they snickered slightly.  
"Afraid, Jazz?" Starscream cackled at the young mech. "You have a right to be." he shoved Jazz forward again, forcing him to walk faster. "Don't worry about where you're going… just the _shape_ you'll be in after he's finished with you." The seekers cackled slightly again, and that sent a wave of chilly fear down the Porsche's back; he now knew that whatever lay ahead of him he was not going to like it one bit.  
"Keep moving!" Jazz got a rough shove from behind, prompting his feet to keep going. His shoulder didn't really hurt, but he knew that if he didn't get it repaired soon it just might fall off. His optics were slowly coming back online, the color now back in his vision as his spark began to slowly repair what it could. He was hoping that whatever the seekers were so thrilled about wasn't going to injure him too much, but, then again, Decepticons have never been known to be gentle.  
The hall turned up ahead and entered into a small control room. There were monitors and screens all along the walls as well as a central control panel with a large-backed chair in front of it. Someone was sitting in the chair, the bot's metal wings protruding out the sides of the chair, and whatever was in the chair was giving off an aura of evil.  
"We've brought him," Starscream sounded eager as he shoved Jazz into the room. "Now where's our pay?!"  
Jazz halted his movements and glared back at the seekers in the doorway. Thundercracker's left wing was missing and Skywarp's face had a slightly mangled look to it; they seemed to have been beaten recently. "What a way to talk to Megatron, Starscream." Jazz couldn't resist, his haughty attitude had returned to him.  
"It's in the middle room." Jazz turned to the chair, his previous demeanor now gone as the bot spoke, the voice incredibly familiar and definitely not belonging to Megatron. The bot stood up, his silver wings outstretched from his lower back, his body slim and solid blue.  
Jazz's jaw dropped in disbelief and horror as Tracks turned around, smirking evilly down at the young Porsche. "Be gone, seekers, and let me have my fun."


	7. Forced Bond

Jazz growled, disbelief flowing through his synapses as he glared at the traitorous Autobot before him. The Firebird gave Jazz a very haughty look, but looked up when one of the Seekers spoke near the door.  
"What do we do with the other mech?" he asked. Jazz turned to look at them; they still hadn't left. Thundercracker spoke with the notion that he was possibly thinking of something slightly sinister. "Could we have him?"  
"Yes!" Starscream piped up, apparently thinking of the same, dirty thought. "We could have _him_ to ourselves while Tracks gets--"  
"No," Tracks' loud voice cut across the seeker's sentence. "Erase his memory then let him go. He'll find his way back to the ark eventually. Oh, Starscream," he added as the seekers were beginning to leave. "You stay here. I may need your…" he glanced at Jazz. "… help."  
Starscream nodded, apparently understanding something that Jazz did not and told the other two to leave. They departed quickly; apparently whatever Tracks had promised them was something that they really wanted. The Firebird eyed Jazz with a look that suggested deception. Jazz knew this mech had had had a bad spark in him from the very beginning, and, for some reason Tracks' presence struck as much fear and disgust in the Porsche as Megatron himself did.  
"Jazz," Tracks spoke to the Porsche with that came quiet, condescending tone he had used earlier that morning. "I see you've been caught in my trap. Honestly, I thought you were smarter then that to be cause by a bunch of dumb Seekers." The Firebird smirked devilishly and sent a chill down Jazz's back.  
"TRAITOR!!" Jazz bellowed, anger ripping through his body. "Where have you taken me-?!" He looked around him, trying to find a way out, his optics scanning the room. With Starscream blocking the only door, and with the Porsche's hands still tied behind his back, he couldn't get out.  
"No need to worry, Porsche," Tracks' voice came from right behind him, and before Jazz could react he was grabbed and forcefully slammed face first to the ground. Tracks' weight was pushed onto the small of the Porsche's back, which made the position quite uncomfortable. "I'll let you go when I'm finished." Tracks' hand descended upon Jazz's uninjured shoulder and pulled, forcing the Porsche to roll over onto his back, his hands now under him. Before Jazz could think hot lips descended upon his own, Tracks' glossa ripping through Jazz's closed lips and attacked the Porsche's mouth while one of the Firebird's hands had snaked its way to the back of Jazz's cod piece and had grabbed a seam, pulling at it and bending the armor upward.  
Jazz squirmed against Tracks, but something had enhanced the Firebird's strength and it held him down. The more Jazz struggled the more pressure Tracks put on Jazz's stomach, threatening to rip through his armor. Fear had begun to replace Jazz's anger when he realized what Tracks wanted.  
He tried to turn his head, tried to get Track's assailing mouth off of his but pain from the broken hydraulic seared into his head and messed with his distorted and broken vision, so he was forced to stay still.  
"When do I get to play?" Starscream's voice came from the right of Jazz, and Jazz's stomach churned slightly as he heard the seeker speak with an eager tone.  
Tracks' mouth parted from Jazz's and he looked toward the seeker. "Patience, my friend, you'll be useful soon." He looked back down at Jazz, a scowl upon his face as he looked over the Porsche positioned between his knees. "You idiots damaged him." he mumbled the words with an air something unpleasant.  
"_I_ wasn't the one who grabbed his one," Starscream's agitated voice now came from above Jazz's head. He could barely make out the seeker's winged form through his damaged visor. "Skywarp's the one that's not careful." Tracks sighed; always like a Decepticon to blame someone else. Tracks chose to ignore the seeker as he put his hand upon Jazz's bent cod piece once more.  
"Never mind," Tracks mumbled. "He'll be in more pain when we're done anyway." Jazz felt the bolts on his cod break away as Tracks pulled the broken metal off. Fear and revulsion ran up Jazz's the Porsche's body as Track's fingers snaked through the wires under Jazz's cod. The young mech heard more metal bending and twisting apart and then something was tossed, but before he could fully register what the piece of metal was, Jazz was stricken with pain.  
Jazz had experienced pain before, and quite a hefty amount of it, but never to this grand a scale. The torture he was experiencing was in his chest as Jazz's spark was forcibly being attacked by Tracks'. The Firebird had connected his bonding wire to Jazz's port and was forcing his spark's energy into the Porsche's housing unit. Both sparks pulsed painfully in Jazz's chest, but they weren't in sync as Tracks forced wave after wave of raw spark power to Jazz's body. The young bot's body felt like it was being pummeled with hundreds of laser blasts, pain searing in his head and causing his logic circuits to fail. Tracks' hands were on Jazz's waist holding their cods together to keep the bonded connection and no matter how much the Porsche struggled he could not dislodge the Firebird's hold.  
Tracks seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this torture. He was smirking as he grabbed at Jazz's chest, bending the bumper and twisting the metal which sent more waves of pain to the Porsche beneath him. Jazz tried to turn off his optics to avoid having to watch the torture, but the damage to his visor had cut off that option so he was forced to observe. Jazz could feel the Firebird's other wires seeking ports to insert themselves under the Porsche's cod and he screamed again, his face contorted in pain.  
Jazz could feel the pain ceasing abruptly as Tracks broke the connected wires. The Firebird's spark had descended and the power surges had diminished. The young mech trembled violently under Tracks as fear joined the pain still rippling through his body.  
"Starscream, join me." Jazz's face went white as the seeker came into his distorted vision. Starscream smirked and he seemed to be viciously happy as he reached for his own cod and pulled the front of it off. The seeker grabbed Jazz roughly, the young bot screaming out as his injured arm sparked and felt like it was going to be ripped off. He was hoisted up slightly as the seeker's legs slid between his and he was jammed down onto Starscream's cod, their cords immediately linking up and again sending a monstrous amount of pain through the Porsche's body and chest, their sparks clashing and Starscream's quickly dominating. The seeker's arms were wrapped around Jazz's arms and body and the Porsche's back was pressed to the jet's chest.  
Jazz screamed and fought, but the seeker's arms around his were too strong. The jet reached up to Jazz's helmet and grabbed at one of the mech's horns, holding it but not crushing it. Jazz was appalled when a wave of pleasure stole through him at Starscream's touch. It made the pain a little more bearable, but Jazz would kill himself if he allowed his spark to willingly bond with Starscream's.  
Jazz's body shook as Starscream's powerful spark forced the Porsche's to bond. Tracks, who had been observing from a distance, now appeared in Jazz's vision and smirked before coming forward and licking the Porsche's face. Jazz twitched away from Tracks in disgust but got slapped for it, Tracks' hand descending quickly upon his cheek.  
"Does it hurt, Jazz?" Tracks' head was now next to the Porsche's, whispering in his audio. "You're crying, baby. Why don't you enjoy it? You're willing to bond with that chauvinistic prick Prowl, but not me?" Jazz's optics got wide as disbelief stole through his mind. Tracks knew about Jazz's crush on the second-in-command, but for how long? Jazz was sure he was careful, he could have sworn that he hadn't told anyone. He stared at Tracks with horror and pain in his optics as the Firebird reached down and ripped off the front of Jazz's cod and descended to sit in front of Jazz. Pain tore through Jazz's chest and he felt like his body was being torn in two pieces as both Starscream's and Tracks' sparks forcefully attacked and bonded with Jazz's. The Porsche screamed on agony, painful tears streaming down his cheeks as he felt his body's synapses failing, his spark getting weaker and threatening to extinguish from the strain. Jazz's circuitry belayed and his body finally shut down his functions, the rapists' energy surges still flowing through him.


	8. Sundown

"I've told you, I don't know! How many times do I have to say it?!"  
Red Alert had somehow managed to make it back to the ark. He was staring angrily at Prowl, who, in turn, was glaring back. They were in the Medbay, Red on a recharge berth with Ratchet in front of him, the medic working on the security director's knee, and Prowl was near a wall, watching Red carefully as if he suspected deception. The cop would have been closer, but Ratchet kept pushing him away. Prowl had no idea how Red could have gotten away, and Red claimed he had no idea how he had suddenly ended up in the middle of the desert.  
"One nanoclick I was in front of the ark with Jazz, then there's nothing until the desert." Red Alert winced as Ratchet jolted slightly, making Red's leg spark. The medic stood up and turned, brandishing his energy scalpel at Prowl.  
"I'm not going to tell you again, boy," Ratchet sounded angry as he waved the scalpel in front of him. "Shut it or leave; I can not have Red Alert in a huff here."  
Prowl glared back at Ratchet for a moment before going back to focusing on the security director.  
"I've got to know, Red! What the slag happened?!" He had chosen to ignore Ratchet, which was entirely the wrong thing to do. The medic, who had descended back to Red's knee, stood up again.  
"That's it," Ratchet said in a short voice. "Get out, Prowl." The cop scowled and chose not to move, but that got the medic even more angry. He walked up to the cop and, grabbing Prowl's arm, turned him around and forcefully shoved him toward the door.  
"Hey-!" Prowl tried to resist Ratchet's pushing, but the medic was stronger; he had an amazing amount of strength when he had to use it.  
"OUT!!" Ratchet's voice echoed through the hall as Prowl was shunned out the doors. The medic pulled the doors closed and Prowl heard the doors' locks click into place.  
The cop growled at the closed doors. He knew that Red Alert didn't know anything, but Prowl was angry, the frustration from the day's events building slowly and becoming too much for the first-in-command to bear. He glowered as he slowly wandered back to the control room, his mind stuck on his best friend.  
It was getting close to sundown, which meant that Prowl would go out and find Jazz then, but he wanted to get the Porsche back now. He knew he had been away from the third-in-command for only a few hours, but for Prowl it felt like it was an eternity. It felt, to the cop, like the Porsche had been gone for months. Anger at the Decepticons had never been this fierce before and it had never meant so much to him that one of his friends was missing. He wanted more than anything to just have his friend back in one piece, but after looking at Red's broken body he didn't really hold up much hope for the Porsche being unharmed. Prowl had resorted to severing the connection between his logic circuits and his imagination as it kept betraying him with horrid images that the cop was quite terrified of.  
The ark was quite busy with meets as they went about their daily business. Every so often throughout the day Prowl would walk into the vicinity of a laughing group, but as soon as they spotted him their laughing would cease, as if afraid that they would be told off for having fun. Prowl knew that they were slightly weary of him because of his current attitude, but he couldn't get himself to relax, not with his best friend in the hands of the Decepticons.  
His despair must have shown on his face for the leader of the Aerialbot walked up to him.  
"Hey, Commander," Silverbolt said briskly. Prowl nodded and smiled slightly at the jet. "You still thinking of Jazz, huh?"  
The cop nodded. "I can't seem to stop thinking about him." He didn't want to admit it to anyone, but the Porsche had been on his mind since he had seen the slanted writing on his bedroom wall. He watched Silverbolt with an attempt at happiness, but must have failed because the jet laughed slightly.  
"We'll get him back soon; it's almost sun set." Silverbolt said. Prowl's cerebral clock told him the same thing. "And you have a whole squadron of Autobots at your command if you need us."  
Prowl nodded. He knew that the the Aerialbot meant well, but for whatever reason, Prowl's circuits had told him that he, and he alone, needed to rescue Jazz, with no help from others. "I appreciate it, Silverbolt, I really do, but this is something I've got to do by myself."  
The Aerialbot nodded and put on a smile. "I can respect that," he said quietly. "I'd do anything for my bondmates too."  
Prowl's optics widened at the jet's last sentence. "How did you know?" He was positive he hadn't told anyone about his crush on Jazz, unless the Porsche was spreading rumors or something like that, but the Aerialbot smiled at the inquiry.  
"It's not really that hard to figure out," Silverbolt shrugged. "You and Jazz are always seen in each other's company; I just kind of pieced everything together to see what I could find. The Aerialbot smiled at what must have been a very surprised expression on Prowl's face, for he continued. "Don't be too embarrassed about it. It's quite comforting having a bond mate, especially during tough times." Prowl smiled at Silverbolt. He had forgotten that the Aerialbot were a Pentabond and didn't think to even ask them about his dilemma with Jazz. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Prowl." Silverbolt continued quietly. "Jazz is a strong bot; he'll pull through." The cop knew that the Aerialbot was trying to make him happy, and he really appreciated the jet's effort, but he couldn't bring himself to really feel any better until he got Jazz back.  
"Thanks for that, man," Prowl felt a bit better and a small smile came to his face. "Alright, I'm going to get my bondmate back."


	9. He's My Bondmate

Sundown on the outskirts of the city. The sun was halfway gone already, its rays just barely reaching the group of mechs standing quietly. Jazz had always liked Earth's sunsets; he had never seen such beautiful masterpieces of nature on Cybertron. He knew that this sunset was beautiful, but he also knew that he would enjoy it a lot more if he were in Prowl's arms rather than Starscream's.  
The jet had a firm hold on Jazz's arm. The Porsche's hands were tied behind his back, Energon bonds wrapped tightly around his wrists and arms. Jazz's head was hung and his visor dark; he could now barely see at all, the optical wiring fried and damaged. His right arm still hung in disrepair at his side, the connections falling apart. He felt his spark weak and distorted in his chest and felt like he had just been thrown in a scrapping machine. He was inhaling large breaths as he desparately tried to keep his mechanisms from overheating; the lack of flowing energon in his body was creating too much friction for his internal fans to cool down.  
Starscream roughly shook the Porsche for a second. "Stand up straight!" The seeker's tone startled Jazz and he was forced to straighten his shoulders, but kept his head hung; every time he tried to move his head, the broken hydraulic would spark painfully, and the Porsche didn't know how much more pain his body could stand.  
His mind kept going back to the torture he had experienced mere hours before. Tracks and Starscream had had their way with the Porsche for hours, and he had no idea how long they kept going after his system had shut down from power overload. When he had awoke from the shut down he found himself strapped down to a recharge berth with his spark's housing unit opened; Starscream was busy draining the energy from Jazz's spark. The one, single thing that the Porsche couldn't shake from the whole experience was the utter fear his body put out when Tracks spoke to him while he was being drained.  
"Hurts, doesn't it?" he had asked in a cool voice. "You want to talk, go right ahead. Tell someone what happened, but, if you do-" Tracks had reached into Jazz's housing unit, grabbing a pipe that sent so much pain up Jazz's back that he immediately began to cry, screaming in pain as the hot tears stung down his cheeks. Tracks' head was right next to Jazz's so that the Porsche clearly heard the Firebird's words through his screaming. "You will be in so much pain for the rest of your life."  
Jazz shivered as Tracks' words passed through his memory again. He was now more afraid of the Firebird then he'd ever been before and his words terrified him. He knew that telling someone about what had happened was the best option, but after being put through that agonizing torture he sure as hell didn't want it to happen again.  
"There he is!" Skywarp was keeping a lookout for Prowl and he had apparently spotted him, the Datsun's police sirens blaring. Jazz's left optic flitted into life and he looked up at the call, elation cutting through his circuitry at the sight of the Datsun's red flashing lights. Jazz stepped forward out of sheer happiness to try and meet Prowl halfway, but was pulled back, Starscream's crushing grip still on the Porsche's good arm.  
Jazz watched through what little vision he had as Prowl transformed then skidded to a halt, stopping feet from the group. The Porsche couldn't make out Prowl's face, but he heard loathing and anger in the cop's voice when he spoke.  
"I'm here, just like you wanted, Decepticon!" Prowl's voice shook with anger. "But I have come to rescue Jazz, not see him die!"  
Starscream laughed behind Jazz, the sound menacing and taunting. "You? Save this thing?" He shook Jazz again and the Porsche's arm gave out a painful spark. "He's not worth much, is he? Just another mech in the Autobot arsenal."  
"Why do you want him so much?" Thundercracker's voice came from Jazz's right and he felt the unmistakable barrel of the jet's blaster being pressed to his head. Jazz's body shook with fear and the strain of just staying conscious as he stared at Prowl. "He can't be _that_ important."  
Prowl's body stiffened as his arm immediately dropped out a gun, which he caught easily. "He's more than just another mech, seeker. He's my bondmate, and he will not die here!"  
Jazz's optics widened in surprise. Prowl had figured out what the notes had meant and had accepted him. The Porsche's synapses sent pleasure tearing through the walls of fear and pain and he was happy for the first time in what felt like ages. He smiled slightly and was about to say something when Thundercracker's blaster went off.

Prowl's jaw dropped as he saw the energy beam rip through Jazz's head, the mech's black body going rigid in shock. The cop's body was flooded with surprise and fright at what the seeker had done. He watched in horror as Jazz's body dropped to its knees then slumped to the ground in a large dust cloud and lay, face down, limp and unmoving.  
The first-in-command's body was unresponsive to the commands Prowl had attempted to give. His circuits had frozen at the sight of his best friend on the ground, the black mech's head sparking and leaking Energon. He had dropped the gun he was holding and was shaking in violent waves of despair as his wide optics stared in disbelief at the limp form of the second-in-command. Empty pain like he had never experienced before ripped across his every nerve, tears beginning to cloud his vision.  
"You _idiot_!" The call ripped Prowl's optics away from Jazz's lifeless body and to the seekers. Starscream had been yelling at Thundercracker, but the cop hadn't been listening until now. He stared at the jets with his watery vision, just standing there, his feelings of anger, despair and disbelief flooding his body with numbness until one of his emotions decided to take over.  
His legs began to move before he really knew what was happening. He was running at the seekers and screaming, furious anger pounding through his synapses, hot anger flowing through his legs as they launched him at Thundercracker. He screamed a murderous cry as his fist brutally slammed into the jet's head, sending the seeker to the ground. Barely touching the ground himself, Prowl spun, his leg broadsiding Starscream, the blow sending the Decepticon into the air with a cry of indignity. Anger like Prowl had never experienced pounded like hot lead through his pipes, his body heating up. Hot sensations tore through his right arm as it transformed into a massive gun. The weapon surprised Prowl; he had never seen this weapon before and had never even knew that it existed in his body, but he intended to use it.  
Pointing it upward, he aimed it at Skywarp, who was floating in the sky, and felt hot energy burn painfully through through his arm just before he let loose one of the largest and most powerful energy surges he had ever seen. The shockwave that the blast created knocked him over and skewed the aiming; the energy ended up missing Skywarp's head by mere inches and shot into the sky.  
Prowl's surprise momentarily overrode the anger coarsing through his body as he stared at the giant blaster protruding from his elbow. He had never seen this huge thing before and was astounded when he was not able to recall it ever being installed. The weapon looked intricate, Ancient Autobot symbols all along the sides and barrel. His optics were wide as he stared at this monsterous weapon, but his astonishment was short-lived.  
Explosions began to erupt around him and drew him out of his momentary lapse. Thundercracker had ascended to the sky and was firing upon the bots on the ground. Prowl looked over at Jazz's body on the ground and quickly dove over it. He knew that the Porsche could no longer feel anything, but he felt the urge to protect the body, not wanting any more harm to come to it. He growled as the anger came back to him. Lifting the giant gun he felt the burning energy surge through his arm before the energy was released. He held onto the position as the shockwave came back to him and smirked as the blast surged straight at Thundercracker and hit him straight on. He spun around, his body pressing on Jazz's and aimed again at Skywarp, having a sudden evil surge to want to mutilate every Decepticon he could, but before he let loose the energy, he felt movement beneath him.  
Prowl looked under him in surprise at Jazz's body. The Porsche's head lay in a pool of Energon and was blown halfway off, wires and internal components were fried, his circuitry damaged and looked to be well beyond repair. Prowl knew that Jazz should not have been functioning, but the left half of his visor had a feeble light behind it and, as Prowl watched, the Porsche's black lips silently mouthed the words "Help me."


	10. Protection

Prowl's optics were wide as he stared at Jazz's visor. The light behind was flickering, the blue very faint; Prowl was astonished to see that he was still functioning. The cop's circuits immediately went to check Jazz's energy fixture and was surprised to find it still there. In Prowl's rage he had completely bypassed the idea of checking for a spark signature; the concept didn't even occur to him. Jazz's visor light flickered feebly and Prowl knew that without immediate help, Jazz would inevitably die. Prowl opened up a comm link to Teletraan and called for immediate assistance.  
The cop jolted as something painful slammed into his back. Looking up, he was surprised to see the three Decepticon seekers pointing their weapons at him in a menacing way; he had completely forgotten that he was in a battle. Reacting quickly, he lifted up his cannon arm to point it at the seeker closest to him, but gasped; the giant gun had disappeared and had gone back to a regular arm. He stared at it in bewilderment as the seekers cackled at him.  
"What's _that_ stupposed to do?" Thundercracker sneered. "Are you going to _point_ us to death?" The other seekers snickered in a rather taunting manner as Prowl scowled. He had to get Jazz back to the ark, and soon, but he wasn't sure how; he couldn't exactly carry the Porsche by himself and he knew that the seekers would be after him if he tried.  
Prowl watched Skywarp, the seeker coming closer to him. He looked around but saw that his only on-board blaster was yards away from him where he had dropped it when Jazz was shot. Unless he could somehow manage to access that cannon in his arm again he was weaponless; he had regretted not letting Ratchet install any other on-board weaponry.  
The seeker looked down at Prowl then kneeled to look optic-to-optic with the cop. "What're you doing?" Skywarp asked in a snide tone. Prowl growled at the seeker and hunched down farther over Jazz beneath him. "You know you've lost him, so why protect to form?"  
"Hey, Starscream!" Thundercracker piped up from behind Prowl making the cop turn his head toward the seeker. "The Porsche is still alive!" Skywarp raised an optic ridge and looked at Prowl as the cop's body went on full alert. The seeker reached toward Prowl and tried to push him away, but Prowl, growling, wouldn't let himself move. The cop struggled with the seeker for a moment before Skywarp managed to get Prowl away enough.  
"He is-!" Skywarp moved back as Starscream quickly replaced him, squatting in front of the cop.  
"Get him off," Starscream ordered. "We need to keep him; it wasn't in _his_ plans to be shot."  
Prowl felt hands on his side, but he resisted, swinging his fist behind him to try and get the seeker to go away, but Prowl's fist met air and swung harmlessly. The cop looked behind him just in time to see Thindercracker's shoulder slam into his and he was quickly dislodged from Jazz's body and toppled over. Grabbing the seeker's arm Prowl threw his fist at the jet's head, trying desperately to get back to Jazz.  
"Stop, Autobot!"  
Prowl looked around quickly to Starscream and saw, horror enveloping his circuits, as the seeker pressed his blaster to Jazz's deformed head. "Move and the Porsche _will_ die."  
Prowl immediately let go of Thundercracker's arm and the seeker retreated to stand behind Starscream. The cop looked at Jazz, a terrified expression across the part that wasn't blasted away, the blue optical light behind the visor very faint. Prowl shook as he looked up at Starscream from his sitting position upon the ground; surely the jet wouldn't follow through with his plan?  
"You wouldn't," Prowl growled at Starscream, almost as if he was hoping that he would do as Prowl said.  
"You think I won't?" Starscream pushed the barrel of the blaster against Jazz's circuitry, which sparked slightly. "Try me, move."  
Prowl stayed on the ground, his arms shaking. Part of his circuitry told him that the seeker was lying to him, another part told him that the seeker was telling the truth and not to move, and yet another part was _screaming_ at him to rip apart the seekers limb-from-limb. He chose to stay still, his mind deciding that the best course of action to keep the seekers from harming Jazz was to do what they said.  
"What do I do, seeker?" Prowl sopke to the ground between his hands, fearing that if he looked at Jazz's injured form any longer he would snap.  
Starscream was apparently taken aback by the question, for he didn't answer right away. "Well, I... H'mm... tell you wat," The seeker apparently thought of something and, by his tone, Prowl gagued that he wasn't going to like it. "Let's see how much you care, huh? Shoot yourself and I'll let you and the Porsche live."  
Prowl looked up in astonishment. "Shoot... myself?" he asked. "What kind of a test is _that_?"  
Starscream scowled at Prowl and shook Jazz slightly, the Porsche's head lolling. "Shoot yourself, or I shoot the Porsche." The seeker's smirk made Prowl sick, but he didn't think he could stand to see any more pain come to his bondmate.  
"I..." The cop thought about it for a moment. "I... don't have a gun." Prowl looked up at Starscream who made a funny little twitching motion of his head in Skywarp's direction, who didn't move. Prowl watched in slight confusion as Starscream made the move again. Skywarp still didn't move.  
"Gun..." Starscream said, turning his his head toward Skywarp. "Over there," Skywarp looked at Starscream, apparently just noticing that the jet was speaking to him. _"GET IT."_ Skywarp jumped at Starscream's hissing voice and finally went to retrieve Prowl's blaster, quickly dropping the weapon in front of the cop and backing away.  
Prowl picked up the gun and looked at it. He never throught that harm would come to him of his own gun, but he didn't want to see any more pain befall Jazz. The cop glanced up at Starscream; for come reason his common sense had told him that the seeker was telling the truth and would let Jazz go. At least, he hoped.  
His hand shook as he brought the gun up to his chest. Pain was about to befall him and the seekers around him were snickering at him. It made him sick that they found pleasure in his pain, but knew, for some reason, that it was the only way to save Jazz. Grimacing in anticipation of the pain, he moved the blaster to his left shoulder and pulled the trigger.  
Pain lanced through Prowl's chest as the force from the point-blank shot blew off his shoulder armor and ripped through the joint. His bit down on his glossa to prevent himself from screaming out in pain as the agonizing torture made his left arm go limp and completely useless. His audios were ringing with the sound wave the gun had made right next to his head. The shockwave had made ripples of black lance across his vision, the connections rattling loose slightly.  
Prowl scowled and set his features as he looked up at Starscream, and wasn't very surprised when he saw the seeker' laughing.  
_"You actually shot yourself!"_ Starscream wheezed, clutching his side. _"I can't believe it!"_ Prowl looked at the other seekers who were laughing too. He felt sick that he had actually done that to satisfy a Decepticon. He growled and was about to say something when a powerful shot ripped over his head and slammed into Starscream. Prowl quickly looked behind him, his body on the alert, but quickly relaxed in astonishment and relief as he saw the help he had called for finally arriving.  
_"Autobots!"_ Thundercracker hissed and took up to the sky, Skywarp following suit.  
Prowl turned to look at Starscream again, but instead he saw Jazz, his body falling. THe cop reacted quickly, grabbing Jazz and bringing the Porsche's body down to the ground. Looking to the sky, he saw the seekers retreating, and, to Prowl's relief, without their captive. Prowl sighed and looked up as a grey hand descended upon his shoulder. Tracks stood next to him, a faint smile on his face as he looked down upon the two bots.  
"You alright?" he asked in a soft tone.


	11. Agonizing Memories

The wind so cold, but the night so young. The Medbay was busy, Ratchet working his magic. Jazz's wounds were deep, but it was nothing that the experienced Medic couldn't handle. As he worked, Prowl watched what he could from through the Medbay doors' windows. Ratchet had locked the doors and had refused to admit anyone, so the cop was anxiously standing at the doors, his face practically pushed to the windows. Ratchet had assured him that he could handle Jazz's situation, but that didn't stop the first-in-command from worrying and dreading the worst. Prowl felt a slight bit of pressure on his uninjured shoulder and looked around to focus his optics on the red hand of Ironhide.  
The red mech smiled at him. Ratchet had fixed him right a while ago, but his left arm was held at his side, three of his fingers still missing. "Don't let it worry you too much, boy." Ironhide said gruffly. "Ratchet's programmed to fix catastrophes like this, and, believe me, he fixes them well." Prowl nodded and smiled feebly at him then, getting a small bump on his left side, he turned to Tracks, who was standing next to him.  
"Jazz is strong," Tracks said, a small smile on his face."Whatever those seekers did to him was harsh, but I know that Jazz is stronger than to let a cowardly blow like this bring him down." Prowl smiled at Tracks, but something about the Firebird's demeanor worried him. Tracks had never before cared about Jazz, nor seemed to worry at all of any of the Autobots were injured, so why was he suddenly being a kiss-aft?  
Prowl pushed the thought from his mind and looked back into the Medbay at Ratchet's back; kiss-aft or not, the Firebird was not Prowl's main concern at this time. Out of sheer force of habit, Prowl opened up his Comm Frequency to try to talk to Jazz, but found that the Porsche's line was dead. He knew that Ratchet had sedated the Porsche, but that didn't stop the cop from trying. He put his right hand on the door for a moment as he closed the comm with a sigh. He wanted this all to be a nightmare, something brought about by the stress of the war. He wished that if, by some Primus-inspiring incident, he would wake from Recharge and find everything to be back to the way it should, but part of him told him that this was all real.  
He felt a bump on his side again and saw First Aid beside him. "Come on, Prowl, I want to take a look at your arm." Prowl shrugged him off and looked back into the Medbay. He didn't want to leave his spot, but knew he needed to let First Aid check him out. With a sigh, he looked back at First Aid, who was still trying to usher him away from the doors. "Come on, let me see."  
Prowl sighed, but followed away obediently. First Aid directed him over to the wall and had him sit. Prowl rested his back against the wall and let First Aid examine him as he stared at the Medbay's doors, afraid that if he gets too far away from the Medbay that Jazz would die in a nanosec.

"Prowl? Wake up, boy."  
The cop heard tapping for a second before his systems came back online, his optics flitting to life to stare right at Ratchet, the Medic's EMP generator out and pointed at his chest. Prowl grumbled and reached a hand up to his head as Ratchet's arm retreated, the EMP disappearing back into the recess of his arm.  
"You must have gone into self-stasis." Ratchet mumbled, a kind smile on his face. "How long have you been out here?"  
Prowl looked around him. He didn't see any bots in the hall besides Ratchet and, as he checked his cerebral circuits, he wasn't very surprised to find it to be quite late. Looking back at the Medic he smiled slightly. "I don't know. I've been out here since you locked the Medbay's doors." He paused for a moment as some information floated around his head. "How's Jazz?"  
"Stable," the Medic replied, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "But it'll be a long time before he'll be functioning properly again." He sighed, then mumbled "Haven't seen a bot _this_ smashed up since the beginning of the War…"  
Prowl nodded. "Can I see him?" His voice sounded anxious as he watched Ratchet and was relieved when the medic nodded. Standing up he walked into the Medbay and remorse filled his synapses as he saw Jazz on a corner recharge berth.  
The Porsche looked better than before, but not by much. His head was still exposed and the wiring looked damaged. There was a screen above Jazz that displayed his vitals and Prowl saw that Jazz's spark had a stable and strong pulse. He looked back down at Jazz's face and sighed. His visor had been removed and the optical stripe below that was dark. The cop felt sorry for him and regrets started to run through his mind as he looked at the gaping hole in the side of Jazz's head. If he had been there just a few minutes before he could have prevented that pain from befalling him. Reaching out to Jazz, he went to touch the Porsche's head, but pulled back as a park shot off of one of the wires and an agonizing scream of pain ripped through the silence of the night.  
He stared at the Porsche in shock, his optics wide, as the scream disappeared. A brief image of blue and red flashed through Prowl's mind when the spark went off, the scream accompanying the vision through his mind. Wherever the shriek of pain came from, he sure as Hell didn't like it. Prowl leaned in toward Jazz's head to see if he could determine what had happened, and, sure enough, the cop immediately recognized the Porsche's memory cords. Looking up at the Medbay's doors he had just noticed that Ratchet hadn't followed him in. He knew that the Medic wouldn't be very happy if Prowl accessed Jazz's private memory, but whatever caused Jazz to omit a scream like that was something that he wanted to find out. Looking down at the Porsche's exposed circuits, he reached out toward them and winced as a jolt went up his arm and the shattering shriek went through his head again.

_"Does it hurt, Jazz?" Tracks' head was next to Jazz's, whispering in his audio. "You're crying, baby. Why don't you enjoy it? You're willing to bond with that chauvinistic prick Prowl, but not me?"  
Prowl felt disbelief steal through Jazz's body at the words as he stared at Tracks with horror and pain in his optics as the Firebird reached down and ripped off the front of Jazz's cod and descended to sit in front of Jazz. Pain tore through Jazz's chest and he felt like his body was being ripped in two pieces as both Starscream's and Tracks' sparks forcefully attacked and bonded with Jazz's. The Porsche screamed on agony, painful tears streaming down his cheeks as he felt his body's synapses failing, his spark getting weaker and threatening to extinguish from the strain. Jazz's circuitry belayed and his body finally shut down his functions, the rapists' energy surges still flowing through him._

Prowl pulled back as the blackness came over his mind. He was shaking violently as he held on to Jazz's recharge berth to prevent himself from falling over. Revulsion filled his body as the images continued to sway in his mind, anger building quickly. Why would someone do that to another bot, why would a fellow Autobot betray his comrade like that? He slowly became aware of his surrounding and noticed a seizing pressure on his arm. Looking over at Ratchet he was greeted with a livid expression.  
_"What the slag were you doing?!"_ Ratchet hissed at him, grabbing at Prowl's arm to e sure the cop wasn't going to fall over. "You were screaming; what happened?!"  
Prowl's head was still swimming with the images that had assailed him while he was attached to Jazz's memory. He shook his head and quickly thought of an excuse. "Got… got my imagination going… thought Jazz was dead." He mumbled. He felt like he was going to be sick as the violent images raced through him. The more Prowl thought about what had befallen Jazz, the more sick and angry he became.  
Tracks, a fellow Autobot, did this to Jazz? Prowl never did trust the Firebird, but he never would have imagined that he would have the audacity to do this to a higher-ranking official. He shook his head quickly to try and rid himself of the sickening thoughts, but instead of ridding himself, it made it all worse.  
All at once Prowl's sick feelings turned to anger as his imagination shifted and began to come up with strategic and ever-nasty ways of doing harm to Tracks, and he had a huge inkling to want to find the Firebird immediately and pound him to bits. Ratchet had been trying to get his attention, but he quickly shook him off, mumbled about wanting to go recharge, and then left the Medbay with one, single thought in his brain: find the son of a bitch and kill him.


	12. Furious Death

It wasn't that hard to actually find Tracks; the Firebird usually put off so much energy anyway that it could be felt for miles. It was getting him to actually stop moving; catching Tracks was the problem.  
The Firebird was busily enjoying himself in the Reck Room, absentmindedly playing with one of the tools he had recently stolen from Ratchet's office when Prowl had found him. The cop's fury was somewhat subdued, but he knew that by Tracks' surprised expression that anger was still showing on his face. Tracks clutched the energon scalpel as he dropped his feet off of the table and onto the ground and glared at Prowl, who growled back. The cop's fists were clenched tightly and his optics were narrowed as his arms began to shake from the strain it took to hold himself back from just jumping on the Firebird and killing him where he stood, but almost immediately after wished he had attacked because the Firebird made the first move. In that split-second hesitation, Tracks threw the scalpel at him and disappeared through the North doors.  
Prowl yelped as the scalpel's blade sank into his newly-mended shoulder and snarled, pulling it out and throwing it at the wall. He charged after Tracks into the North halls and heard the Firebird's light footfalls heading toward the ark's entrance. He quickly chased after Tracks, his mind filled with anger and worry at the same time. If Tracks got outside, then he could easily fly off and Prowl would never catch him. He scowled then jumped and transformed in the air. He knew he was faster in his alternate mode and was ready to prove it as his tires slammed onto the ground and screeched away, producing the longest burnout Prowl had ever made, the sound echoing through the halls. He soon saw the Firebird's blue body up ahead and transformed back to his robot form, simultaneously pulling out a heavy blaster, which he fired upon Tracks. He heard a cry as one of the fires slammed into Tracks' back, slamming the Firebird into the ground right outside the ark.  
Prowl ran to the mech, scowling down upon the Firebird in angry disgust, the barrel of his blaster pointed right at Tracks' head. Every synapse in his body screamed at him to pull the trigger, to blow apart Tracks' head on the spot, but he chose instead to go with an idea that he had a long time ago; make this traitor's death as painful as possible.  
In Prowl's hesitation Tracks whirled around on the ground and kicked his leg out, tripping Prowl and causing him to fall. Squirming, he scuttled and ran again to try and get away from the ark to be able to transform and take off with no problem. Prowl's rage at the Firebird was beginning to take over his better judgment as he got up and chased after Tracks. His mind was getting clouded and distorted and he felt as though some unbeknown force was controlling him, showing him nothing but red anger and blind rage. His body was pulsing with hot feelings he could not describe as his body changed slightly, his right arm sparking red and flowing with hot energy as the giant cannon appeared again, jutting out from his elbow and from his shoulder.  
Tracks saw his opportunity to escape and transformed, his boosters kicking into life as he jumped into the air, about to fly off when Prowl jumped and landed on him. The cop's weight was too much for Tracks to bear on top, so his tires hit the ground again and Tracks sped up, trying to shake the cop off. Prowl roared savagely and pointed the cannon at one of Tracks' wings. Hot energy surged through him before the blast came, the huge energy twisting and breaking the metal in a flurry of red sparks as he heard Tracks scream out in agony. Prowl got off of Tracks and the Firebird transformed, the pain too much for the Firebird to bear in car mode. Tracks rolled on the ground, cursing at Prowl as he felt the cop's weight on top of him. He lashed out, catching the side of Prowl's head with a powerful blow and sent the mech off of him, followed by a flurry of bullets from a blaster that the Firebird had procured, firing upon Prowl's body.  
The cop knew he was injured from the attack, but could feel no pain, the anger too strong, his will to kill too intense for him to know anything but blind, white-hot rage. Prowl hated this bot with all his Spark and wanted to see to it personally that Tracks was killed. Prowl knew that killing would be easy, but he wanted the blue mech to suffer for what he had done.  
"What the _Fragging Hell_ is wrong with you?!" Tracks' fists were raised as he spoke. "Why are you attacking me??" Tracks was playing dumb, and Prowl knew it.  
"Why the _Fragging Hell_ do you think?!" Prowl's rage spat out at him. He shot at Tracks, the cannon's energy surged toward Tracks, but he dodged, hiding behind an outcrop of rock. "If you have nothing to hide, Firebird," Prowl continued, his voice full of poison. "Then why are you running?" Prowl slowly walked over to the rock that Tracks was hiding behind, but before he could do anything, he got a blaster to the face.  
Prowl fell back in agony as he clutched at his face, the point-blank shot cracking one of his optics and distorted and blurred his vision. Prowl heard footsteps fading and knew that the coward was running away again, and Prowl would be damned if he let Tracks get away with what he had done. Rolling over, he lifted the cannon and fired, the huge blast pummeling into one of the Firebird's legs, slamming him into the earth once more.  
Getting up, the first-in-command walked to Tracks who was screaming slightly and clutching at his right leg, the leg blown off at the knee. He cried out and sent evil curses to the cop's audios in Autobot. Prowl smirked down at Tracks and kneeled over him. The Firebird lifted the blaster in his hand, but the cop grabbed his hand and twisted, forcing the blue mech to drop his weapon. Prowl took Tracks' blaster, pointed it at the Firebird's chest and pulled the trigger, feeling insanely satisfied when he heard Tracks screaming in agony as the three point-blank blasts ripped easily through the Firebird's chest armor. Prowl knew he didn't hit the Spark, but knew he came damn close to it.  
Tossing the small blaster aside, he placed the cannon's barrel against Tracks' chest, letting the heavy weapon push against him. He growled at the blue mech, but silenced himself as he was surprised to suddenly hear sobbing.  
Tracks was crying, but whether from pain or fear, Prowl could not tell. "Please-" Tracks' strained voice was feeble and sounded pathetically weak. "Please don't! Spare me, I'm sorry-"  
"You're _sorry_?!" Prowl's anger rose again. "That's all you have to say?! You raped my bondmate and almost kill him and all you have you say is sorry?!" Prowl snarled at Tracks; he looked so pathetic under the cop's cannon.  
"For the love of Primus, Prowl, don't kill me!" Tracks' pleading was pathetic and it was beginning to get on Prowl's nerves.  
The cop scowled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." he pushed the cannon into tracks' chest and heard the Firebird yell out in pain. When Tracks produced no answer to his prompting, Prowl smirked. "I thought so. Then, perhaps, you could tell me _why_?"  
Tracks' ace went from desperately pitiful to angry faster than Prowl had ever thought possible. The Firebird's arm came up and brutally connected with the side of Prowl's head, slightly dislodging the mech from Tracks' body. Prowl's fury came back to him and, before he could really stop himself, he roared and the red hot energy surged through his arm as the sound of the cannon going off rocked through the flat landscape.  
Prowl's arm went limp as the energy from the cannon began to slowly dwindle. The cop looked at Tracks' body with sight astonishment at what he had done, a giant hole blasted straight through the bot's blue body to the ground below. Prowl sat back, his optics locked on the chasm through Tracks' chest as feeling slowly came back to his body. The adrenaline and fury were dissipating quickly, the cannon vanishing with it, coming back to a regular, solid arm.  
He groaned as he clutched at his side in slight surprise, now realizing the wounds in his body from Tracks' blaster. Scowling, he got up then looked down at Tracks' face, the blue optics dark and devoid of life. He knew that he couldn't leave the dead mech here, so he thought for a second and a simple, yet effective, thought came to his mind as he quickly commed Omega Supreme.

"Decepticons," he had told Ratchet when the Medic had seen Prowl's injuries. "A seeker jumped on me." Prowl was pleased with his cover story of what had happened to him, although the Medic didn't seem too happy about having to fix him up again. He was now sitting next to Jazz, who had been propped up on the Recharge Berth. Ratchet needed to reboot the Porsche for a moment to see if everything was connected alright in Jazz's arms, and he needed to be sitting up for the test. Jazz's body was leaning against Prowl's, the black head on his shoulders, and that suited the cop just fine.  
Ratchet had booted up a machine, which quickly gave Jazz a spark of power. The Porsche jumped slightly as his optic band flitted to life. Jazz tried to sit up but was forced back down by Ratchet.  
"Don't move, boy, I just have to run some basic tests." Ratchet bustled away for a moment and Prowl found Jazz's hands wandering over his body, as if trying to see who was next to him; the Porsche couldn't see things very clearly unless the visor was over his face.  
Prowl took one of Jazz's hands in his. "It's me, Jazz. It's Prowl."  
Jazz's face broke into a feeble smile and he squeezed Prowl's hand slightly. "Prowl? Thanks Primus it's you!" He sounded slightly anxious. "I was afraid you were…" he paused and seemed to be slightly uncomfortable.  
"Tracks?" Prowl helped him finish his sentence. He watched Ratchet come back over with some tools, but chose to ignore the medic for a moment. "Don't worry, he won't bother you again." Prowl felt awkward as he looked at Jazz's face. He had a sudden urge to do something he had never done before, but before he could do what he wanted, the Porsche spoke.  
"You know?" Jazz asked quietly, a hint of fear in his voice.  
"I do, yes." Prowl mumbled back as his head began to move closer to Jazz's. "And I can promise you," He seemed to be moving and speaking automatically, his body doing something that his mind wasn't telling it to do. He slowly pressed his lips to Jazz's white ones and engaged Jazz in a very awkward kiss as a small surge of happiness flowed in his spark as he slowly pulled away from Jazz. If he had been human, he was positive that he would be blushing, an awkward feeling in his face. "It won't happen again, Jazz."  
Jazz smiled at Prowl, but was pulled away from the cop's attention when a comm came through; Optimus Prime had returned from his mission and had wanted a report. He looked back at Jazz, but the Porsche's head was turned toward Ratchet as the Medic began his tests. Sadly he bade farewell to the two and left the Medbay to meet his leader in his office.  
Knocking on the door, Prowl entered Optimus Prime's office and strode up to his leader, happily shaking the hand offered him. "How was your mission, sir?" Prowl asked. Standard protocol, always ask your superior how everything went, even if you aren't interested.  
"Oh, the basic routine, but very devoid of Deception seekers." Prime replied with a sigh. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything." Prowl chuckled at the joke and knew full well why the seekers hadn't been there, but he just smiled at Prime. "What about here?" Prime asked. "Anything catastrophic happen while I was gone?"  
Prowl smiled pleasantly at his leader as he thought of the events that had passed in the last forty-eight hours of his leader's absence. Certainly, the events that had passed were nothing to smile about, right? One event, though, stood out in Prowl's mind as the one satisfying thing that occurred in the last two days of this hellish nightmare. Sure, he liked the fact that he had a bondmate now, but it was the more amusing factor of trying to hazard a guess as to what the Junkions were going to use Tracks' body for.  
"No, sir," Prowl's smile widened as he let his imagination stray on that subject for a while. "Everything worked out just fine."


End file.
